


See Through

by asmolpotato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco is a sad bean, F/M, M/M, actually epilogue compliant, angstiness, not sure if thats a good thing, this looked way better at 3 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmolpotato/pseuds/asmolpotato
Summary: He wonders if Potter plays seeker games with the Weasley girl, if he tries to make her tea every morning even though he could never work the kettle, if she wears his jumpers the way Draco used to do. He wonders if they sit outside together, late at night, tracing their names in the stars and playing at being immortal.





	See Through

He signs the papers and leaves.

The occasion should be momentous, a turning point in his story, but he can only summon mild disinterest. His marriage had been long over anyway. He pulls his robe closer around him and turns away from the documents on the desk.

"Dad?"

Scorpius stands by the door.

"Yes?" Draco's voice is hoarse, and he thinks irrationally that he's intrusive in the heavy silence.

"What if they hate me?"

"You'll just be a first year on your first day, your whole life ahead of you. If they do hate, the blame rests solely on my shoulders."

"What if they hurt me?"

His son's voice is barely a whisper, but the words strike Draco cold and sharp.

_What if they hurt me?_

He had been fifteen, huddled in a broom closet, his lips inches from Harry Potter's. 

More than twenty years ago. Draco still remembers with startling clarity.

 _Then they'd hurt me too,_ Harry had replied, brushing Draco's hair behind his ears, and it's almost as if he could feel an echo, a phantom of the touch, featherlight against his cheekbones.

They had been untainted, nearly free, two children with hope carried inside like a flame to be protected. For a year, it had all been perfect, secret kisses and stolen moments. Then summer had come, and with it the fear, and Draco had wondered many times over if he had just dreamt everything up, a small comfort conjured by the weaknesses of his mind.

But he had realized that none of it had mattered. Love was just an idealized fantasy. He had his parents, his family, living and breathing, their fates resting in his hands, and what good was loving if one wasn't alive? 

_What if they hurt me?_

Draco remembers the needle-sharp pain of the curse as it hits his skin, tearing flesh and spilling blood. He remembers the horror in Harry Potter's green eyes, the swirl of emotions Draco couldn't or wouldn't recognize. He had known, as he lay bleeding on the cold, wet floor, that he had never stopped, never would stop, because when it came to Harry Potter, Draco had always given him his everything.

And when the war had ended, Potter had married the Weasley girl, finally fulfilling the perfect reality. Potter had married her, and had children with her, and looked at her as if she had hung the moon, and Draco had torn inside, piece by piece, until he had found himself crying on Astoria's shoulder.

He had recreated his life, putting himself back together, trying to make beauty of broken glass, but then Potter had shown up at that nightclub, and at 25 he had felt the same as he had at 15. And by getting back everything, he lost it all. Astoria was six months pregnant with Draco's child, a heir to the Malfoy line, but he had been willing to throw it all away for Harry Potter.

And now Draco's alone again, Scorpius going with Astoria, the division settlements final, and it's all over the same way it began. Tomorrow, Draco will accompany what used to be his family to King's Cross, then he'll get the freedom he had always wanted.

But Draco's dreading the morning light because it means seeing Potter again, and even after all these years, he's still in love. Draco had wished for something constant in his life, and here it was, his  _always._

He wonders if Potter plays seeker games with the Weasley girl, if he tries to make her tea every morning even though he could never work the kettle, if she wears his jumpers the way Draco used to do. He wonders if they sit outside together, late at night, tracing their names in the stars and playing at being immortal.

And he sees the way they look at each other, the love in Potter's eyes, and Draco knows she makes him happy. Potter, he deserves to be happy, and Draco would pull the stars to Earth to give him that.

He kneels down and looks his son in the eyes.

"If they try to hurt you, find Albus Potter. Hold out a hand, and ask him for help. If that child is anything like his father, he'll know how to tell the wrong sort for himself."

"Really?" Scorpius asks, his eyes widening.

"I know he will."

And so the next morning, when Draco has a family for the last time, he sees Potter at the station with the girl Weasley, smiling and holding hands. He sees them exchange fond looks over the heads of their three children, he sees Potter put an arm around her, and he sees him press a kiss to the top of her head. And even though he's falling apart inside, crumbling to ashes and dust, shadows of magic and memory, Draco gives the Potters a curt nod and turns away. 

After all, the scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> Please deliver me validation with kudos, that glorious food of the gods.  
> (I'm not sure what that was either.)


End file.
